Lollipop
by laureleaf
Summary: Sam knows what it's like to be where Gabriel is: hurt, scared, and silenced. Sam helps Gabriel put himself back together again after the events of "The Things". H/C, emphasis on the comfort. No slash.


A/N: A plot bunny bit me after watching "The Thing" this past week and wouldn't let me go. General spoilers for that episode. No slash. Warnings for gore, discussion of consent, and references to past torture. Feedback is appreciated!

* * *

"Hey," Sam says warily. Gabriel eyes him with more distrust than recognition. Ketch puts a steadying hand on the archangel's shoulder. The Archangel Gabriel, Herald of the Lord, comforted by Arthur Ketch, Murderer and Turncoat. The sight is _so wrong_ it makes Sam nauseous.

"It's ok. It's me, Sam Winchester," he continues, hands out and relaxed. That's important. The sight and smell of weeks of bloody torture has memories of the Cage pressing close, so Sam is intimately aware of just how important his tone and body language are right now. It looks like Gabriel has been pushed past the point of breaking: everything he sees will be through the lens of pain and fear. So Sam keeps his voice low and comforting. He keeps his hands outstretched and open. Not by his side, ready to strike, and not fisted, preparing for a punch. Open. Vulnerable. Not a threat. No pain to fear.

"I know what it's like to have your mouth sewn shut," Sam bites his lip, the nip of pain grounding him in the _here_ and _now_. He can hear Dean shift his weight uncomfortably at the not-so-casual reference to the Cage and Ketch's sharp intake of surprised breath as he tries to figure out what he's talking about, but Sam doesn't acknowledge either man. All of his attention is on Gabriel. Sam's words are for _him_ , not _them_. "May I help?" he asks. Not " _Can_ I help," implying pity. Not "I _will_ help," establishing control. " _May_ I help," a request between equals, with the option to say _no_ without retribution. Torture is all about the loss of control. Sam wants to give it back.

"I already tried that," Ketch grumbles. Sam shoots him a filthy look. It was clear from the moment he entered the room that he'd taken great pains to clean himself up, but hadn't lifted a finger to assist the battered Gabriel. "He won't let me touch his face."

Sam's close enough to snap his fist into Ketch's chin without warning, and he does.

"Did you like it when I touched your face just now?" Sam snarls before pulling his fist back again. "Do you want me to touch it again?" Ketch flinches, just a little. Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Point taken," Ketch touches the tender spot on his face gingerly.

The angel is staring at Sam with unabashed confusion now. Dean's also staring, but he knows better than to interfere. Sam's a little ashamed that he lost control like that, but he only hurt Ketch, and he's been wanting to punch that dick for a while now, so no real harm done.

"Dean, deal with Ketch. I'm going for the first aid kit. Gabriel, make yourself at home."

* * *

"May I help?" Sam asks again. He's got a scalpel and a pair of tweezers in his hand, but there's also a small mirror nearby if Gabriel wants to do this himself. The archangel nods his consent. It's odd to ask and receive consent from an angel, instead of the other way around. Sam's trusted on the power of _no_ for too much for too long to just take _yes_ for granted now.

Gabriel's lips are a mess of dead and torn skin, and the rank smell of weeks of dried blood and sweat and torture is enough to make Sam's lips curl in disgust. But he's been where Gabriel sits, and Dean has never shied away from his brokenness, and that meant everything.

"Try to keep your tongue away from the internal stitches," Sam warns as he places the scalpel against the first thread. He made that mistake once, and Michael cut right through the tip of his tongue without meaning to. Sam doesn't remember what he said to make Lucifer sew it shut, but he remembers how it felt when he tore the first set out while Lucifer tortured him into screaming. The second set went through his gums. Thankfully whoever did these stitches wasn't quite that sadistic, although it does look like Gabriel tried to tear them out at least once.

For the most part, the archangel is silent except the grinding of his teeth as the stitches come out slowly and painfully, crusted with pus and dead tissue. Sam distracts them both by talking about what happened after Lucifer killed Gabriel. The Horsemen's rings, saying _yes_ to Lucifer, jumping into the Cage, the torture, being soulless… he's just started on the Hellucinations when the last stitch comes free.

"Don't open them just yet," he cautions. "There's a lot of stuff crusting your lips shut and you'll just damage them more. Here," Sam wets a cloth and hands it to Gabriel. He'd be fine cleaning up the gore himself, but he wants to give Gabriel the chance to reestablish his autonomy, especially since it had been taken away for so long. That, and the last thing Sam wants to do is force what would feel like a gag into the clearly traumatized archangel's face. While the scabs soften, Sam talks about the Trials and Gadreel. They move on to cleaning the rest of Gabriel's face while he goes on about Metatron and the Mark. The archangel's eyes widen in surprise at some points of his story. It's quite the tale when it's laid out all at once, Sam will readily admit. And they haven't even gotten to Amara, the Men of Letters, Mom, Jack, and alternate universes yet.

"I think that's good. Take it easy now. Don't try to talk at least until you've had a drink to clear your throat. Try not to nibble at the stitch-holes either; I know they itch."

The Herald's lips open slowly as his eyes close in relief. His tongue darts around the edges of his lips to moisten them. Sam hands him some lip balm and some numbing cream. He's used the combination countless times after a hunt and knows it works well. He's not sure how much good human medication will do since Gabriel is an archangel, but it certainly won't hurt.

Sam leads Gabriel to the bathroom so he can rinse and spit. He makes sure the water in the glass is room-temperature: cold water would be a painful shock to the freshly-exposed teeth. Another Cage lesson learned the hard way. The water runs red and clotty down the drain. The archangel's hands clench on the rim of the sink as his lank hair hangs limply over his bowed forehead.

"If you need to scream, scream," Sam says gently. "That's the worst part, isn't it? Not that you can't breathe right through just your nose, or the taste of blood that never leaves, or how you can't soothe your thirst or hunger. It's that they think your screams are such an inconvenience that they need to be permanently silenced, despite the fact that they are the ones causing them in the first place. So it's ok to let it out. Remind yourself that mouths are made for making noise. You don't have to pleasure them with your silence anymore."

It had been bad enough for him, when Lucifer took his voice in the Cage. Sam, as a human, had never stood a chance against two angry archangels. His _no_ would be utterly ignored on principle, even if he had been able to say it. Even so, being stripped of even his meager means to fight back, to resist, even symbolically, had been the ultimate violation. But Gabriel was an _archangel_ , one of the most powerful beings in the universe besides Chuck and Amara. As Herald, his entire purpose for existing was to speak and to be heard. When Gabriel opened his mouth, the universe shut theirs so they could listen. To be stripped of all of that strength, of that autonomy, of that power... to have everything that made you _you_ torn away until you were reduced to a trembling meatsuit that couldn't even say _no_... Sam can't even begin to imagine.

The scream starts soft, almost timid. A frightened mewl from a newborn kitten. But it grows inexorably until it's a roar and then it's a rampage and then it passes the range of Sam's hearing and light bulbs start exploding overhead. The hands covering his ears are totally ineffectual in blocking the all-encompassing sound. It goes on and on, seemingly forever, stirring uncomfortable memories in Sam's soul. Lucifer and Michael had screamed the same way when they first landed in the Cage. Rage and pain and vows for retribution all wrapped up together in an overwhelming tsunami of noise. Sam curls his thumb into his palm and reminds himself that Gabriel is not going to take out his pain on Sam's battered soul. Probably.

Eventually, the sound cuts off with twin pops as Sam's eardrums burst. He can still feel the vibrations in his chest. The tile under the archangel's hands cracks, and the mirror shatters. Tears drip down Gabriel's newly-cleaned face. Eventually, his mouth closes and his shoulders shake with repressed sobs. Sam knows the feeling. It's good to be heard, but after that, then what? When you've held in that much for that long, and finally give yourself permission to release it, it leaves you empty. Hollow like a deflated balloon. It's a good sensation, but a draining and exhausting one.

"Better?" he asks with a voice that hopefully isn't too loud due to his deafness. Gabriel swallows thickly before nodding. "There's a shower through there," Sam points to the appropriate door. Nothing like a shower to help pull yourself together after being broken apart. "I'll grab you some clothes and a towel. Do you need help? It's hard to reach some spots on your back, especially if you're already sore." Another lesson taught in blood, this one learned while hunting. Dean's good about helping him clean out the gunk from the spots he can't reach without making him feel awkward about it. Of course, Dean's been helping him with baths since, well, forever, but still.

Gabriel shakes his head in the negative, his eyes full of something unreadable.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Sam informs him. "Take however long you need: the hot water never runs out in this place."

Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket as Gabriel slowly makes his way down the hall. Cas. He can't hear the angel's words with his ears still languidly leaking blood, so he just starts talking.

"Get to the Bunker. Now. My ears are busted: use text."

The call disconnects, quickly followed by a series of increasingly-misspelled texts asking for clarification. Sam explains the events of the last few hours as succinctly as he can. Cas is less than happy (Sam isn't exactly thrilled himself) but promises to be there as fast as he can.

Sam's hardly a cook (that's Dean's gig) but he can manage to follow the directions on the box of instant-cake. While the dessert bakes, Sam digs out Dean's not-so-secret-stash of candy. It had recently been bolstered by some after-Easter sales, so he doesn't feel so bad about raiding it. He's not sure that sugar is the best for mouth wounds, but Gabriel has at least a little angel mojo left and even if he doesn't Cas will be here soon to patch him up, so it doesn't really matter. Sam knows better than anyone that the worst wounds are the ones no one can see, and sugar will help the ex-Trickster heal more than any salve in the first aid kit. After being treated worse than an animal for who knows how long, Gabriel needs a visceral reminder of who he really is. Sam can hand him back his weapons and point him towards revenge, but that will only make things worse. Revenge will only take you so far, and it will suck your soul dry until you forget what you started fighting for in the first place. Yet another bloody lesson Sam has struggled to learn.

At his heart, Gabriel loves his family and hates conflict. He likes playing tricks on people that deserve it and eating candy because he likes the taste. Sam can't fix Gabriel's interpersonal problems, but he can provide candy. If nothing else, it will be a reminder that Gabriel can do something because he _wants_ to, not because he _needs_ to or is _obligated_ to or _has_ to do in order to survive. It's a message that life isn't all pain, that it can be enjoyed, and that it's ok to enjoy it. There are good things worth fighting to protect, and _that_ will keep you going a lot longer than revenge.

He's just pulling the cake out of the oven when he spots Gabriel hovering at the door. The archangel looks a lot better without all the blood covering his face. His hair is a different color now that the grime is removed. There's still plenty of bruises, of course, and the deep-set circles under his eyes won't be fading soon. But the fear is starting to drain from his eyes, and that's good progress.

"I can make a grocery run if you don't see anything you like," Sam offers as he sets the cake on the cooling rack. "I didn't want to just vanish on you. Cas is on his way: he should be able to finish patching you up if you aren't quite up to it yourself yet."

Gabriel shakes his head and just stares at the spread on the table. It's nothing like the sweet-fest Sully made that one time, but it's still probably a bit overwhelming. Choices are hard, especially after a long time without having the option to decide anything at all. So Sam simplifies things by fishing out a cherry lollipop from the pile and offering it to the archangel. _Do you want this: yes/no?_ It's taken hesitantly, but the wrapper is ripped off like the treat's going to vanish if he's not fast enough. The archangel closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose as the flavor hits his tongue. Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket: Cas is at the door.

Gabriel is exactly where he left him when they return, but something about the way he holds himself has changed. Less fear, more confidence.

"Brother?" Cas whispers with reverent surprise. Gabriel just holds up a single finger. _Wait_. Sam smiles. It's a small _no_ , but an important one. You don't tell your torturer to hold off cutting into you until a more convent time, after all. The lollipop stick in Gabriel's mouth twirls a bit. After a long moment, he pulls it out and wraps the soggy end in the empty wrapper. He tosses it into the garbage perfectly at the first try, despite the fact that his fingers are still a bit twitchy.

"Thank you Sam," Gabriel says quietly. "I know I wasn't always the kindest to you and your brother. This is…" the Messenger of God falls silent, at a loss for words. " _Thank_ you."

Sam scuffs his feet and looks away for a moment. Not so very long ago, he'd been willing to kill Bobby for the chance at running a stake through this being's heart for murdering his brother (repeatedly). But somewhere amid all of the averted apocalypses Sam had come to understand Gabriel's motivation a little better. You did everything you had to, even things you didn't really want to do, things that weren't really in anyone's best interest, to save the people you love. Gabriel didn't murder Dean in front of Sam repeatedly because he hated them: he'd wanted to teach Sam the painful but necessary lesson that he couldn't always save his brother. Gabriel didn't force them to play through several TV shows because he wanted to humiliate them: he'd wanted to help them come to terms with their roles in the Apocalypse. He taught bloody lessons in the only heavy-handed way he knew how, but he did it with the intent to help.

Sam had almost caused the end of the world (more than once) for less.

Sure, Gabriel was a dick, but he'd died trying to help the Winchesters. Even if he hadn't, no one deserved to be tortured the way he had. Sam could empathise with Gabriel, and in empathising, he could forgive him.

"You're welcome," Sam meets the archangel's eye. "Want another lollipop?"

"Don't mind if I do," Gabriel smiles around the still-healing wounds on his lips. It's a _yes_ that speaks of internal recovery, and Sam knows he's going to be ok.


End file.
